Doctor Who_ The Sea-Devils - Malcolm Hulke [6]
‘Two being passed over to you, Mr. Snellgrove,’ announced the first prison officer.
‘Am receiving two from you, Mr. Crawley,’ said the second prison officer seated at the driving wheel of the Minimoke.
‘All right,’ said the prison officer called Crawley, ‘hop in quick, you two.’
‘Well, jump to it,’ barked the Doctor, and climbed on board the Minimoke. He talked in the same sergeant-majorish way as the prison officers. ‘Am now sitting in Minimoke.’
Prison Officer Crawley crossed over to the Doctor and looked at him with the disdain he normally reserved for criminals in his care. ‘All right, sonny. You may think we’re a big laugh here. But let me tell you this: the way I look at it, the world’s divided into three groups of people—those who have been in prison, those who are in prison, and those who will be going to prison. Got it?’
Jo quickly got into the back of the Minimoke next to the Doctor. ‘I’m sure we understand perfectly,’ she said, ‘and thank you for being so kind. Can we go now?’
Prison Officer Crawley turned and went back into the gatekeeper’s cottage without a word. Prison Officer Snellgrove put the Minimoke into gear and drove it, at not more than ten miles per hour, all the way up the drive to the vast Victorian front door of the château.
The door was not opened until Prison Officer Snellgrove had given the right number of knocks. It was then opened by two more prison officers, who immediately wished to see Jo’s and the Doctor’s passes and UNIT identity cards. The prison officer who had brought them said, ‘Two being passed over to you, Mr. Sharp,’ and
Prison Officer Sharp, who guarded the front door, replied, ‘Am receiving two from you, Mr. Snellgrove.’
As soon as the Doctor and Jo were inside the vast hallway, the front door was closed and locked. Prison Officer Sharp barked at the visitors, ‘Keep two paces behind me,’ and promptly marched off down a stone corridor, followed by the Doctor and Jo. Sharp eventually stopped at a small door of ornately carved wood with huge wrought-iron hinges. He knocked, entered, and held open the door, and stood to attention.
‘Visitors—two,’ announced Sharp, staring straight ahead of himself, as though on a parade ground, ‘being handed over to you, Mr. Trenchard—sir!’
The Doctor and Jo followed Sharp into the governor’s office. It was a big gloomy room with cathedral-like windows, all with bars, and a lot of heavy, brown wood-panelling. The furniture was old-fashioned—a couple of enormous leather armchairs, and a huge old desk. George Trenchard, a retired army officer, was seated at the desk, writing a memorandum. He was a big-built man with a bull neck, middle-aged, dressed in conventional country-gentleman tweed suit and an Old School tie. He remained where he was, writing away, without looking up. Jo and the Doctor waited patiently. Jo was reminded of a rather stupid headmistress she had once known who had always used this technique when girls went in to see her; it was a trick to make visitors feel unsure of themselves. After a while the Doctor cleared his throat, very noisily.
Trenchard spoke, but still without looking up. ‘All right, Sharp,’ he murmured, ‘carry on.’
‘Sir!’ shrieked Sharp, saluting with force enough to knock his own brains out. He turned on his heel, and left the office. Trenchard continued to write.
‘We could always come back later,’ said the Doctor helpfully.
Trenchard signed his name to the memorandum and looked up, delivering a perfectly charming Old School smile. ‘Ah, yes, you’ll be the people from UNIT.’ He rose and extended his hand. ‘Terribly, terribly glad to see you both.’
Jo shook hands with him. ‘I’m Josephine Grant, and this is the Doctor.’
‘A Doctor, eh?’ said Trenchard. ‘I’m getting a few twinges these days. Must be old-age creeping on. Still, don’t want to bother you while you’re out for a day. You’re late,